The wrong Vampire
by jessiejlp1987
Summary: Buffy fights with her feeling for Spike when she is suppose to hate him and love Angel.


Buffy knew that what she was doing was possibly the single most worse thing in her entire life.

She was the chosen one. The 'good guy'. If she was good then why did she feel so bad. She loved Angel. He was her everything and had been since her first

week in Sunnydale. She loved how good he was to her and how her heart ached to be near him every waking second.

But it was the lust that Buffy felt for a certain vampire, who was nothing like her Angel, that made the tears fall silently. It had all started outside the Bronze

three months ago after she had staked her hundredth undead creature. He had applauded her. His blue eyes bore into her, that magnetic accent drawing her

in even if he was stating that he planned to kill her.

Willow would forgive her, make excuses that would explain her lapse in judgement. Giles would be baffled and lecture her, trying to return Buffy to the 'straight

and narrow.' Xander would hate her. She knew how much he liked her himself and didn't understand what she had with Angel that she couldn't have with him.

But Angel had a soul. It was easy to explain. Everyone seemed to like him, even if they tried not to.

How would she explain him? The soulless thing that has tried to kill them all. Everyone feared him; anticipated when he would once again attack. Two slayers

had known death by his hands...and fangs. He was a killing machine, designed to do the worse possible damage.

Three weeks ago, Buffy had been sitting in the grave yard, dangling her feet from a hundred year old tombstone when he had walked into view. She had to

admit that his looks were distracting and if he would just put on his vamp face it would be so much easier to hate him and kick his ass.

"Slayer," he leered. He always looked her up and down like she was something to eat...but i guess in his case, she was. Her attire that night hadn't been the

most practical. She wore a short plaid skirt with a black tank that showed a little more cleavage than she normally did. Buffy's plans had been to stake a vamp

or two and make it to the Bronze in time for dancing. It seemed as if her plans were going to take a little back seat.

"Spike," she acknowledged with indifference. "If you've come for me to kill you let's get it over with quickly...I've got plans."

He smirked in the most sexy way that only he was capable of. Spike tilted his head to the side as he lit the cigarette that dangled from his mouth. The mouth

that she had dreamed of one too many times. He inhaled, and retracted the cigarette from his lips with his black tipped fingers. "As much as I would love to

crack every bone in that delectable neck of yours, i could care bloody less about brawling with you tonight, love."

"Then why are here?"

"Coincidence? I was out for a walk, saw you sitting there all bored, and decided to keep you company."

"I would rather have a possum stuffed up my ass then spend one second with a thing like you."

He chuckled deep within his throat. "If you want me to sod off then why is your heart beating so fast." She didn't have a remark to this. There banter can go

on for hours but it never occurred to her that he could hear her heart. Spike was slowly moving twords her, his black duster swinging around his lean hips. And

then he did the one thing she had never felt before. He touched her cheek with his cool hand. She had felt his fist more times than she cared to count...but

never his palm.

Buffy inhaled audibly, parting her pink lips a fraction. She knew what a fool she was making of herself. Barely above a whisper, Spike asked, "how old are you,

slayer?"

"Si...sixteen." Damn why did she have to stutter.

"Hmmm, a little young for Angelus aren't ya?" At the mention of Angel, her eyes darkened and she jerked away from his uncharacteristically gently embrace.

"His name is Angel and I don't see how that is any business of yours. It doesn't matter how old I am but what I've seen. I have been through more than one

person could ever inspire to see in one life time or two."

His eyes chose that moment to show pity. "Don't you dare look at me like that," Buffy seethed.

"Like what?" he asked. "Like you care and have any sympathy for me," she retorted.

"I've known the blood of two slayers, Buffy, and neither of them had half the fire I see when I look at you. They were both older than you are now, got to live

a bit more..."

"This isn't living," she interrupted "I didn't choose this," she croaked. "It seems so stupid now.. how i use to be. Vain, popular, worrying if I would forget my

cheer moves at the next big game," she paused when she felt two arms envelope her from behind.

"Go on, love," he breathed in her ear, sending shivers up Buffy's spine. "Now I worry if this might be the day i die." Spike guided her around to face him and

what he did next was the last thing that Buffy would ever imagine or want him to do. He placed his smooth cool lips against her own and paused. She knew he

was waiting for her to respond to him. Her hands lifted, grabbing onto his platinum blond hair that could possibly only look appealing on Spike. She had

wondered numerous times in the past what his hair had been like before when he had been human.

She sighed and opened her lips to his own, as he licked her bottom lip and slid his tongue into her mouth. She had never been kissed like that. Angel only

gave her small little lingering kisses that were over faster than they started. He never drove his fingers into her shoulder length wavy blond hair and held tight

like she would float away if he didn't place his claim on her with his touch.

Without lifting his lips from her own, Spike grabbed her by the waist and hoisted Buffy onto the same tombstone that she had previously been occupying when

he snuck up on her earlier. His hands slowly slid her mid-thigh skirt up higher. He settled between her parted thighs. She could feel his need which both thrilled

and terrified her at the same time. When he reached for the zipper of his black jeans, the spell momentarily broke.

"Spike, don't " she barely breathed out. He looked slightly offended but quickly covered it with the shrug of his shoulders. "Funny how your so hung up on

Angel but you won't let a real man touch you."

"Who said I let Angel touch me?" she whispered as their eyes locked and passion yet respect crossed his features.

And now, three weeks later, still a virgin and two vampires burning for her, Buffy lay in the arms of the one that she should be staking instead. His features

were soft as he slept next to her body under the pink bed spread, Mr. Burbles, her stuffed pig resting amusingly next to his blond head. When Angel slept

over, he would rest on the floor, thinking that was the respectful thing to do. Spike on the other hand got underneath the covers and wrapped an arm around

her waist, not giving her time to adjust her nightgown that had ridden up her to expose her belly. He would just rub his thumb back and forth on her torso

until she either fell asleep or rocked her hips in desire.

The previous night he had slowly moved his hand downward, pausing every few inches, waiting for her to yell or knock him out, but when she hadn't moved,

he slipped his left hand beneath the waistband of her pink panties and touched her. It had been mortifying but electrifying all at the same time. He did nothing

but rub her with one finger, catching each sigh into his mouth until she exploded. He laughed softly in her ear as he kissed her forehead, "that's my girl." She

had easily fallen into blissful sleep after that.

And now tonight, he had not touched her like that but slept himself. It was strange. The man who had given her such pleasure the night before felt like a

lifeless body. He didn't breath, and every time he moved she sighed with relief She was falling in love with the wrong vampire. She was beginning to yearn for

the one she couldn't have. Yet who was the right one? She would eventually die. They would live forever. And as a slayer, death would come faster than it

should. She would be damn lucky to make it to twenty-five.

Everyone hated him. She had Angel. He had Drusilla. No one seemed to be making a move to make this happen. But Buffy knew that he was it. The one she

wanted above all else and nobody, not even Drusilla, his lover of a hundred and ten years, could even stand in their way.


End file.
